There was a time when Canada’s Parliament, our House of Commons, could boast proud moments in history. One of them, was, of course, Sir Winston Churchill’s “some chicken, some neck” speech in December, 1941. The famous quote was a reference to collaborator Marshal Pétain having warned Churchill that Britain would have its “neck wrung like a chicken” by the Germans.
[Simply glorious.]
That such a speech was given in sleepy, pretty, frozen little Ottawa - my hometown - was remarkable. I can only imagine my father and mother - at that time unknown to each other and living in Winnipeg and Toronto, respectively - listening with their families, inspired and hopeful. My uncle, about to begin law school - he eventually gave it up to volunteer for the army - likewise must have been moved. It makes the current turn of events, the standing ovation given to a former member of a Waffen-SS Division, even more painful and embarrassing. I feel dreadful for Ukrainian President Zelensky, whose visit and speech to the same House of Commons has been overshadowed in the darkest of ways. A proud moment in history that could have been, wasn’t. I can’t imagine, though, that he will spend much time worrying about it - Zelensky has more important matters, questions of life and death, with which to contend.
I had wondered if he would quote Churchill, given that in 2022, many predicted a similar chicken’s neck scenario for Ukraine as the one envisioned by Pétain for his cousins across the Channel. Others trivialized the situation - remember President Biden’s “minor incursion” comment? In the end, Zelensky did not reference the speech, either because his team did not know about it or he thought it would seem too clever by half, or arrogant, seemingly comparing oneself to Churchill. While I do not think he is Churchill - who could be? - I do know that he has shown and continues to show exceptional courage and leadership in the face of a brutal and unjustifiable invasion by Putin. He could have accepted the American offer of a flight out of Kyiv last year, but he chose moral clarity instead. We owe him all the help we can give him. (And don’t “at me,” as the kids say, about this and about Zelensky’s and Ukraine’s lack of perfection. I will take flawed Ukrainian leadership and democracy over Russia’s clear aggression and agenda any old time.)
The word “Nazi” gets thrown around carelessly, but the man given such enthusiastic applause in Parliament, was, once upon a time, a literal one. How was he not vetted? How did Speaker Rota (now former-Speaker Rota) not get his staff to check out this man’s past? Better yet, why did he not ask advice from Chrystia Freeland, a woman with degrees in Slavonic and Russian Studies who knows something about having a family with unfortunate war-time connections? (If you read Bill Browder’s Red Notice - and you should - you will notice that Freeland comes across as someone of substance, much more than she does as a politician. Politics does that to people.) My best guess is carelessness, a willingness to trust without verifying because of a desire for an emotional moment, and limited knowledge of history. When someone says they fought “against the Russians” you should ask, “When?” Depending on their answer, you don’t want to be applauding them.
I do feel for Rota, because despite other aspects of his life, he will forever be associated with this. I think he had no clue about his invitee’s past. Still, he had to resign and he had to apologize. Speaking of, our Prime Minister, the King of Apologies, was slow on the uptake and diluted his potential “the buck stops here” moment with his standard mealy-mouthed posturing and some buck-passing of his own. Anyone surprised? I didn’t think so.
Back to 1941, it was on that visit when Churchill sat for his famous portrait by Yousuf Karsh, the one nicknamed The Roaring Lion. It was taken on the very same day as the speech, in the Speaker’s Chamber of the House of Commons. Once we had leaders - weren’t those the days?
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Personal note: my parents first landlord in Ottawa was Malak Karsh, Yousuf’s brother. My mother posed for some of his Ottawa Tulip Festival calendars.